


semblance

by lionsenpai



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9220463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsenpai/pseuds/lionsenpai
Summary: “Your sister,” Leliana starts, clearing her throat and wishing desperately for a drink. “She had horns.”





	

Morrigan, as far as Leliana can tell, doesn’t seem overly bothered by the blood on the soles of her shoes, the spatters of red along the hems of her trouser legs. The focus she devotes to the heavy tome in her lap, the one with the ancient, curling pages, and the dark, scrawled hand, makes her blind to the rest of the world. 

Leliana, on the other hand, has blood on her blouse and a nasty knot on her temple which should disqualify her from driving - not that Morrigan notices. 

“Your sister,” she starts, clearing her throat and wishing desperately for a drink. “She had horns.”

As if just remembering this fact, Morrigan looks up from the tome and gives a sniff. Her fingers linger over the magic circle adorned with looping sigils on the page before her, and her full lips pinch as though annoyed Leliana would find such an obvious thing remarkable. “Yes?”

Leliana rolls her shoulder, trying to split her attention between the open road and the woman next to her. It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts - a consequence of the blatantly illegal spell which almost broke her like a discarded doll against a tree, the Chantry badge in her pocket be damned. 

“Usually I wouldn’t pry into your personal affairs - ”

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

“ - but I’m beginning to suspect you haven’t been entirely up-front with me.”

With a frankly unwarranted heave of annoyance, Morrigan closes the book in her lap, drumming her fingers along the leather of the center console. 

Leliana counts to twenty in her head and then decides that enough time has elapsed for Morrigan to start confessing the tragic backstory she’s surely kept hidden all along. “Okay, I’m gonna pull over - ”

“No!” Morrigan shoots her a look like she just suggested defacing Andraste’s visage in the Cathedral of the Divine. 

Leliana touches her temple, the sharp cry reverberating in her skull. “Alright, then let’s - ”

“We can’t stop moving.” Morrigan snaps. “She’ll catch us if we do.”

“I’ve been driving for forty-five minutes,” Leliana returns, trying to keep her voice steady. “I doubt she has any idea where we are.” 

“She does.” Morrigan fidgets, irritation growing.

“Who did you say you were running from again?” Leliana remembers distinctly that this was a case of an illegal magical artifact outside of Chantry control - low risk, no apostates of note related, just a simple retrieval. “Your mother?”

“My mother… And my sister.” 

“Right,” Leliana says. “The sister with horns.”

The drumming of those long fingers grows faster, more force in each strike of nails against leather. “How astute of you to notice.”

“Maybe I should pull over - ”

“Alright! Enough threats,” Morrigan throws her hands in the air, twisting her body away from Leliana entirely. Finally in pursuit of the meat of things, Leliana assumes she’s going to get a proper explanation. Instead, Morrigan only says, “She’s a shapeshifter.”

Unregistered. Okay. “What’s her form?”

Morrigan’s lips flatten into a line. “A dragon.”

The motor doesn’t stutter, the road continuing to race by, but Leliana’s heart skips a beat. Toneless, she repeats, “A dragon.”

“A dragon.”

“Okay.” Leliana’s head hurts more than ever, but for the moment she’s thankful for whatever diminutive power that blow to the head has over her emotions. “And your mother. Is she a dragon too?”

A long pause, the kind usually followed by tearful confessions. Morrigan only bites out, “My mother is Flemeth.” 

Flemeth. Leliana’s grip on the steering wheel is almost painful. 

“The Flemeth?” she asks. 

“The Flemeth,” Morrigan confirms, stubbornly not looking her way. 

“The omniscient, immortal witch who ravaged Highever for half a century? The one who preys upon those who even speak her name on the night of full moons?  _Asha'bellanar?_ That Flemeth?”

Morrigan scoffs. “She’s not omniscient. She uses familiars to see much - but not all.”

“Oh,” Leliana says. “The rest of it?”

The silence is answer enough. A lump grows thick in Leliana’s throat, her head throbbing. All at once, she regrets not bringing Cassandra along, regrets not turning Morrigan out of her office the moment she saw those gorgeous gold eyes. 

If only because the silence is more suffocating than anything else, Leliana asks, “Is there anything else I should know?”

Morrigan turns to look out the window, her stern expression reflected in the darkened window. “My mother,” she begins, cautious. “The familiars she uses… She speaks with ravens.” 

Leliana blinks, staring straight ahead, not saying anything for a long time. Then, “Your childhood must have been very difficult.”


End file.
